


Cherry Water

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [66]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8606002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	

Napoleon chose not to open his eyes. He knew from past experience that the act would only bring more pain than he was already feeling. His best course of action was to remain perfectly still until his head stopped pounding, his stomach settled, and the world around him stopped moving.

"You only have yourself to blame," came a voice from the next room. A voice, which in Napoleon's opinion, sounded far too cheery and healthy. Illya should definitely be feeling as bad as he was.

Solo was all too aware that his current circumstance was his own fault, although it didn't stop him giving some of the blame to his partner. Illya had been entirely complicit in the endeavour and had imbibed just as much as he did. Admittedly, the Russian could drink vodka like water, but Napoleon was no light-weight when it came spirits either.

They'd been celebrating reaching the fifth anniversary of their partnership the only way possible; by drinking to oblivion. Napoleon had arranged for the pair of them to have two days off to allow for the inevitable hangover.

"I've been out and bought pastries," Illya called from the kitchen. "Do you want one?"

Napoleon's stomach churned at the thought.

"Napoleon?" The voice was closer.

The American cracked open one eye and saw a blurry Illya holding up a bakery bag.

"No thanks," he finally croaked. "I'll just have coffee.

Illya disappeared back into the kitchen and Napoleon decided to sit up. He had fallen asleep on the sofa, so at least he didn't have undertake the journey from the bedroom. With exaggerated care, he pulled himself up. After waiting for his head to stop spinning, he looked at the debris on the coffee table. Amongst the detritus of what was left from their Chinese take-out, he could see several empty glasses and spirit bottles. One glass in particular drew his attention. Picking it up, he glared at the dark pink liquid, which still filled half the glass. Napoleon gave it an experimental sniff and wrinkled his nose.

"What was this?" he asked Illya, as he came back into the room with the coffee and pastries.

"Do you not remember?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

"You decided that vodka was too boring a flavour on its own," Illya explained. "You decided it needed something else and settled on that bottle of kirsch you brought back from Switzerland.

"I hate that stuff," Solo replied, suddenly feeling very unwell indeed. "I got it for Aunt Amy."

Napoleon suddenly found that he could move after all and dashed at full speed towards the bathroom. Illya smiled, somewhat evilly, and tucked into his pastry.


End file.
